


Causality

by imperfekti



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 06:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfekti/pseuds/imperfekti
Summary: Maybe it wasn't just that one mundane sentence, nor that one pretty smile that put the two of them on that path, but they did have their part to play.





	Causality

**Author's Note:**

> I had a few people look at an earlier version of this fic sometime last year, and got really useful feedback from them - thank you all! Since then I rewrote some parts quite a bit, and now that I finally have this in a form I can somewhat accept, I just want to get it out immediately so it doesn't get stuck on my WIP folder any longer.

Standing at the edge of Seigaku’s tennis courts to observe the first years prepare the nets and other supplies for morning practice, Tezuka Kunimitsu squinted his eyes against the brightness of the late autumn sun.

It wasn’t long since the third years had graduated from club activities and Tezuka had been given the command of the team. Despite some initial uncertainty, some trial and error, the days were by now settling on a new routine, and he himself was starting to feel more natural in his new role and responsibility.

Actually, the start of his career as the captain had been smoother than he had expected. Having Ooishi take care of the social side of things that Yamato-captain had been so good at was a huge help - while Tezuka had known he could defeat the senior on the court, he had come to realize there were aspects to his leadership that he didn’t think he could match. That Ooishi was there to mediate fights, welcome the newcomers and help him plan and adapt the practice menus was not only a huge help, but simply necessary for the club to function.

It also helped that unlike the third years, most of the the second and first years had - to more relief than he had anticipated - received him well and mostly cooperated with whatever they were told to do. Not to say there weren’t cases where more discipline and effort was required - Tezuka thought there was a lot more they still needed to do as a club and as individuals if they were going to reach their goals next year.

That being the case, one of Tezuka’s habits was to be among the first ones to arrive in the mornings to ensure everything went as it was meant to, and if it didn’t, he could be there to solve any issues. It was also a time of the day when he made sure to be available to any club members that wanted to ask for his advice on improving their tennis.

Lately, within that routine, another pattern had formed, in which a certain member of the club would approach him with a greeting Tezuka had by now grown accustomed to expect. Some days, it was followed by indeed talk about tennis or the club, while other days, something totally unrelated. Tezuka tried to keep the latter kind of talks few and short - it wouldn’t be good for the captain to engage in idle chatter when he wanted to discourage such behaviour during practice in general. 

Sure enough, that day was no exception to that pattern.

“Good morning, Tezuka.”

Hearing the words, Tezuka turned his head toward the familiar voice that, just now, sounded a little different than usual.

_Ah._

A few steps away from Tezuka, Fuji had appeared, just like he did every morning. But unlike usual, he was not dressed in his blue and white regular jersey, but in his school uniform. And even more noticeably, instead of the usual smile, what adorned Fuji’s face was a white face mask.

He didn’t seem to have his tennis bag with him, either.

“Morning. Are you ill, Fuji?”

“Not terribly, no.”

Light as his words were, his voice did indeed sound a bit strange.

“But to be honest, I’m not feeling my best. So if it’s okay, I think it might be good for me to skip practice today, so whatever I have doesn’t get worse.”

Tezuka nodded in agreement - Fuji did sound like he might have caught something, and he trusted him to know what was best for himself in such a situation. In the back of his mind, he did note the club had an emphasis on strength training in the practice menu for that day - something Fuji would have benefited from, but obviously should not partake in if he was not in shape for it.

“Yes. Take it easy today, then.”

“Mm, I will. Thanks.”

Thinking the discussion was over, Tezuka was about to return his attention back to the courts when Fuji continued.

“Anyway... Since I can’t practise today, I was wondering if there was anything I could help you with instead.”

Tezuka glanced back at Fuji. While he had privately thought the usually smiling boy wasn’t as hard to read as he sometimes overheard some of their club members saying, Tezuka found himself uncertain of the content of his suggestion.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… Maybe with the team’s paperwork, or arranging the clubroom or the like.”

Where this was suddenly coming from, Tezuka didn’t know. Until now, Fuji had hardly shown any noticeable interest in participating in such chores any more than what was generally expected from the regulars. Be that as it was, there wasn’t really anything that came to mind that Tezuka could have asked of him. All tasks of real importance were already in taken care of by himself or Ooishi, or properly delegated. Taxing a not quite well Fuji with unimportant matters didn’t seem like a purposeful thing to do.

“No, there’s nothing that you need to worry about.”

There was a pause before Fuji’s answer.

“Oh, I see.” He laughed a bit - a low, muffled sound under the mask. “Well, that’s to be expected.”

Tezuka took in how Fuji’s eyes squinted as they tended to when he smiled - a gesture easy to see even with half of his face hidden under the mask. Still, as far as he could tell, something about his manner spoke of disappointment. Why, Tezuka didn’t quite understand.

“Well,” said Fuji then, taking a half step back. “In that case, I think I’ll go pick up some of the strategy books from the clubroom and head somewhere with them. I kind of feel bad for them since no one ever has the time to read them.”

Detecting this hint of negativity in the usually good-spirited Fuji reminded Tezuka of something Ooishi had asked of him a while back - about keeping the club’s mood up by being “more friendly”. 

Fuji began to turn so as to leave. “Well then…”

Was this one of those instances where something more needed to be said? Tezuka figured it was, and without the time to weigh his words, opened his mouth to say the first thing that came to mind.

“Actually, my mother is also ill at the moment.”

That made Fuji stop and return his gaze to look at him straight in the eyes. Tezuka wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be saying. It seemed like Fuji wasn’t, either.

“Oh?”

Feeling awkward, Tezuka cleared his throat, and tried again. 

“It seems like it’s going around. Be sure to rest well and get better, so you can resume practice soon.”

For a moment, the paper mask was subtly moving in and out at the rhythm of Fuji’s breathing as he seemed to take in what Tezuka was saying. Then, unexpectedly, Tezuka could see it - a smile forming in his eyes that didn’t hide them, but opened them in a way Tezuka hadn’t seen from Fuji before.

It looked as if a light was living in those eyes.

At that moment, Tezuka didn’t know what to make of that expression, but he felt it move something within him.

Soon enough, Fuji spoke.

“Thank you, Tezuka. You should be careful not to catch it too, then.”

And with that, he turned to leave.

Seeing him go, Tezuka for his part turned back to face the courts, where preparations for the morning practice were almost finished.

Somewhere behind him, he heard Kikumaru arriving to the grounds, hearing about Fuji’s condition, and soon loudly complaining not getting to practise with him today.

Through the remaining awkwardness over the unaccustomed attempt at small-talk just now, Tezuka found himself agreeing with the sentiment of Ooishi’s doubles partner. Getting Fuji back to practice soon would be good - for Fuji’s own continued development, and maybe also for the mood of the club, the importance of which Ooishi had kept talking to him about. Perhaps there had been some merit to it, Tezuka thought now, and assured himself that surely it wasn’t anything strange if he thought it would be somewhat nice to see that smile again, next time without the mask on the way.

 

\- -

_Ten years later._

 

The February sky was light and clear when Tezuka emerged from Narita airport, a sobering sight after a long flight back over the night to return to his mother country.

He had not slept much on the plane. While he was well accustomed to flying after all the years of traveling from one tournament to another, and even after his coach had finally managed to convince him that taking first class wasn’t too wasteful but an optimal use of resources, it still took time for his body’s rhythms to align with time zones when going from one side of the Earth to another. (His coach kept insisting there were pills to help with that, but Tezuka refused to take medicine for something that was natural, not serious, and would fix itself within a couple of days.)

In the train from the airport to the city, looking at the views passing by, Tokyo seemed the same as always - at least the same as when he last visited nine or so months ago. Most of that vacation had been spent with his parents, enjoying familiar foods and making day trips outside the city. Even grandfather had joined them for the trip to Takaosan, and had refused to take the chairlift halfway up the mountain, insisting he was still young enough to make it to the top of such a modest mountain on his own two feet.

This time Tezuka wasn’t heading directly to his family house, though he would see them later in the week. Nor did he have an apartment of his own in Tokyo - with the success he’d had in tennis over the years he could have afforded it, but given the limited time he could spend in Japan overall, there didn’t seem to be much meaning to the idea. 

After a few changes between trains and metro, Tezuka eventually emerged from underground carrying his light luggage and racket bag at Myogadani station. The street he took from there was lined with green, and the further from the local centre he got, the more the trees were in bloom with winter camellia flowers.

He had the keys ready when he made it to the apartment, part of a relatively new, cleanly kept up building close to the Koishikawa botanical garden. Out of habit, he knocked before opening the door.

“I’m home,” he tried, but there was no answer. Well, he had arrived during working hours, after all.

Taking a quick look around the apartment, Tezuka wondered if there were more plants than last time. Otherwise things looked the same - light, airy, comfortable.

Despite being rather worn out after the long travel, Tezuka figured it would be good to unpack immediately. He hadn’t brought much - just what was necessary to keep up a light exercise routine, some clothes, a couple of books - so the task was a quick one. After years of travel, the need for souvenirs wasn’t really there anymore, but he had brought some edible ones - sugared ginger, salty liquorice, some specific spicy sauce you apparently couldn’t get anywhere in Japan. As he organized them on the kitchen table, he realized he was hungry. Taking a look in the fridge, Tezuka found a container with a post-it note saying “mild <3” on top of it. He smiled.

As it turned out, the curry left for him was probably not what everyone would call mild at all, but he survived.

When after food and shower Tezuka was still alone in the apartment, he decided to take a nap - just a short one to get him through the rest of the day.

Or so he had planned, but when he next opened his eyes, the brightness from before had turned into dark. Maybe he had been more tired than he had thought, if he had slept through the alarm he had set.

The next thing he noticed was that he wasn’t alone anymore. There was a warm body pressed against his back, and a calm breath on his neck.

Tezuka wanted to see him.

When he begun to turn, the form close to him stirred and gave him room to turn around to bring them face to face on the bed.

The image was a bit hazy in the dark and without his glasses, but Tezuka could make out Fuji slowly blinking his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

“Hey”, said Fuji simply.

“Hey. You’re home.”

“Mm, for a while already. Welcome back to Japan.”

Tezuka brought an arm around Fuji’s back and pulled him lightly against his chest. Fuji seemed happy to inch closer.

They didn’t say anything for a while.

They never were the kinds of people to send messages or to call everyday, but given the way things were, with Tezuka traveling from tournament to tournament all over the world and Fuji working in Tokyo, words were often the easiest thing to exchange when they were separated. But this - being close, feeling the other against him - felt by far the easiest way to communicate.

Tezuka stroked his hand back and forth over Fuji’s shoulder blades, covered by a cottony sweater. There was an appreciative hum from Fuji, and when he pressed his cheek against Tezuka’s chest, his hair felt soft against his chin.

Tezuka felt like he was waking up.

“I was going to get up before you got home.”

“Ah.” Fuji still sounded sleepy. “I got home early today. You were sleeping so soundly I turned the alarm off and came in here with you.”

So that’s why he had slept well into the evening, or night even - who knew what time it was.

“It might be hard for me to fall asleep later.”

He felt and heard Fuji chuckle.

“I don’t think I’ll really mind.”

The words sent a warm wave of anticipation through his body, long absent in that form while they were apart. Yet he had to remind himself that, as far as he knew, he was the only one on vacation now, with the next tournament far away enough to allow him the next two weeks in Japan. Fuji, on the other hand, had been so tied up at work lately he had complained he barely had the time to water his plants.

Tezuka kept stroking Fuji’s back.

“You would be tired at work, though.”

There would be other nights. He was an adult, and he would manage, like he had so far.

“Actually, I took tomorrow off.”

… Though in all honesty, he would rather not just manage.

Bringing his hand on Fuji’s shoulder, Tezuka pushed him on his back and leaned part of his weight on him. When Fuji lifted his chin, Tezuka lowered his to press his lips on his.

Fuji opened his mouth with a sigh, and Tezuka slipped his tongue in. The man under him moaned quietly and shifted to bring his arms up around his neck, while Tezuka moved his hand to hold him by his waist. God, how he had missed this.

Somewhere in the middle of kisses and out of breath, Tezuka backed away just enough to look at Fuji. His eyes were black in the dark, and Tezuka almost wanted to get up to turn on the lights to really see him.

He brought his hand up over his stomach and chest to his chin, eventually running his thumb over Fuji’s lower lip, moist from the kisses and shifting to a smile under his touch.

Tezuka loved this mouth. He didn’t remember since when anymore, but he was quite sure it must have been from the beginning.


End file.
